


Between You & I

by bottomdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Gay Sex, Guilt, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, School Principal Chuck Shurley, Slow Burn, Student Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester, Teacher-Student Relationship, Time Skips, Writer Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:41:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomdean/pseuds/bottomdean
Summary: When Dean Winchester gets a teaching position in the small town of Harvelle, Pennsylvania, he is instantly intrigued Castiel Novak, a student with miles of pain and remorse beneath the deep sapphire eyes.Castiel Novak, grieving the loss of his beloved mother, only has one wish. To find something, someone, to show him why life is worth living despite the pain and sorrow of tragedy. Who better to do that than his new English teacher who has long since been mending the mother-shaped whole in his own heart.With Dean's marriage falling apart by the day, he finds himself turning to none other than Castiel himself. Despite the set of unprincipled circumstances in their way, will Dean and Castiel ever be able to make this work? Or will it become just another tragedy painted in their past?





	1. Serenin: The fine, light rain that falls at dawn

**Author's Note:**

> To start off, I'd just like to clarify that Castiel is eighteen in this story, NOT underage. It'll be addressed soon, but I just wanted to get that out there right at the beginning. But most of all, I hope you enjoy! As of right now there should be about twenty-six chapters so there's a lot more on the way. Happy reading!

Dean Winchester awoke before even the sun had a chance to stir from behind its brethren of clouds. For anyone who doesn’t know him, mornings are  _ not  _ his thing. In fact, there’s nothing he resents more than the insistent ringing of his pesky alarm clock rather than snuggling back up into the awfully warm, cozy blankets. 

Needless to say, he’d do just about anything for a few more minutes to close his eyes and slip into a world of dreams each morning. Today, though, was different. 

Today seemed brighter, though hardly in the literal sense. The shimmering sun was basking behind the clouds, hiding itself for another day. The air was a bit nippy for early September, already practicing for the soon approaching autumn months and leaving the harsh summer heat behind. It even looked as if it might rain; the clouds growing darker with each passing moment.

But some part of Dean knew that this rain wasn’t just any kind of rain. The air wasn’t gloomy and the clouds weren’t looming, growing more threatening as they swelled darker. These clouds were a light gray, and Dean just knew that the coming rain would be as gentle as the soft clouds that carried it. He imagined the droplets as almost a soft caress against his skin, soothing in a way only the most natural, pure water could be.

Because today was a new day, a new start. The rain would wash away all of the past, douse all of the wrongs. Mother Nature knew the difference between a cleansing mist and a raging storm. He was fresh to begin anew—the day was ever bright for Dean Winchester.

Today was the start of a new chapter of his life and he planned to make the most of it. Just a few weeks ago he had moved from Kansas, the place he’d grown up, to the small town of Harvelle, Pennsylvania. It was hard letting go of the one place he’d always known—his brother, his dad—but even he knew it was a necessary adjustment. His wife, Lisa, had just graduated from law school and she had been offered a generous job just a few miles out of town. So needless to say, if this was what made his wife happy, then Dean could stand to look at some new scenery. After all, this was what she’s been working for as long as they’ve known each other. 

That’s really been the theme of her life lately, it seems. Lisa has practically been working at the firm since the minute they stepped foot into Harvelle. Not that he minds all that much, he wants her to be happy after all. But being a teacher himself, he really hasn’t had much to do. Until now, that is. 

He’s practically been counting down the days (practically is a generous word, he’s actually been eagerly crossing out each day on their kitchen calendar) until now. Until today. The date of September 2nd had been imprinted on the walls of his mind since the day he was hired at the town’s local school just a few weeks ago. Now it’s finally here and it’s his chance to shine, to do what he does best.

But despite everything—the anticipation, the wait, the excitement, all of it— there’s a familiarity he had back home that he just simply doesn’t have here. Everything he had ever known, everything he grew up with, even the  _ people  _ he had grown up with… none of that was in this little town. But this is the start of Lisa’s career, something so incredibly important to her that he just can’t ignore. Marriage is sacrifice, he knows, and compromise is necessary. So as much as he misses Kansas, it’s a bearable ache that he’s learning to deal with.

But the most distracting thing he can do right now is teach. And God is he happy to finally be back. He loves his job dearly, he loves seeing the understanding in the student’s eyes as he speaks, he loves working with each of them uniquely. And for this particular year, he’s happy to finally have something to do. With Lisa gone frequently with her new job, he’s been bored out of his mind. He even considered getting a pet. 

But now things are different. The sky even seems to understand that with its ashen clouds seeming to almost watch over Dean, granting him safe passage into this new part of his life. It was funny—he almost felt like a teenager on his first day of school again. He was excited to start the year, yet nervous that the kids wouldn’t like him; wouldn’t accept him. Which was ridiculous, he was a grown man for God’s sakes. But in a small town like this, it was crucial to make a good impression. Everyone knew everyone around here and, as new as they were, neither he nor Lisa were included in the loop yet. 

All of these thoughts floated through Dean’s head on his drive to school. This town was so different from his own, so remarkably small (at least in Dean’s standards) where his had been large and populated. Not to mention that everyone around here knew everyone’s business and then some—they were outsiders here. Nobody knew them, not yet. 

It was sort of beautiful in its own way, he thought. The town, he meant. It almost seemed made up, like something taken straight out of a movie. Dean always thought places like these only existed in fairytales, in children’s bedtime stories. Flowers bloomed everywhere, from almost every house it seemed. Lawn ornaments decorated fronts of houses as well as signs supporting the town and the local students’ education, some had pictures of footballs or tennis rackets. It was remarkable how obviously spirited this town was.

Harvelle was almost like one giant extended family all living together. Dean found himself wishing to be apart of it all, to know his neighbors’ names and know what kind of cookies to bring over for the holidays. This seems like the kind of place that would do that. Maybe even the kind of place where neighbors asked to borrow a cup of sugar and were invited to game nights. 

Dean had never had this sort of familiarity with so many people before. It felt strangely… pleasurable. There was a feeling in his chest, like he was accepted somewhere besides with his brother and wife. Like he  _ belonged.  _ A smile formed its way onto his cheeks without his consent, but he didn’t stop it, didn’t push away this feeling: like maybe the future held something more for him than he ever could have thought.

This was his new beginning. 

And all beginnings had to start somewhere. His just happened to be the first day teaching at Bradbury High. He’d been so lost and caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized he’d already made it to the school. Now that he actually had responsibilities and students relying on him, the building seemed to loom over him, almost taunting him. It was so much bigger than he remembered it. He was being silly, he knew. His old school, the school he had left, had been at least twice the size of this one and certainly had more students. So why did he feel like he wanted to hightail it out of there and never look back?

But he couldn’t run, not when he had so much ahead of him. So he stepped out of his beloved Impala, the only familiar thing he knew around here, and took the first few steps into the school.

His steps echoed in the hallway and silence surrounded his frame, encasing the air and his lonely breath. He hadn’t had much chance to look around the last time he was here, to take everything in. The hallways were simply decorated, yet in the narrow space it seemed much more extravagant than Dean thought it would in any other given space. A polished case of trophies sat front and center on the first floor hallway, the beige walls seeming to make the gold shine brighter, the slender space enlarging their size. There was a surprising variety of achievements displayed considering how small of a town Harvelle was. At just a glance Dean could make out mostly sports like basketball, football, track, and tennis, but he also saw a tall spelling bee trophy and a sparkling math competition medal grouped with all the others. 

Dean, too busy ogling the trophies and medals (particularly the math one, that had never been his strength), had been so focused that he hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching until he nearly jumped out of his skin at the words “Dean Winchester?” spoken in the empty space behind him. Whirling, to his relief, he saw his unexpected fear had been only the principal—or in other words, his boss. 

Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief he immediately straightened and put on a smile, saying, “Mr. Novak, hello, sir.” Looking down at the shorter man, Dean could see the crinkles around his eyes and cheeks, his blue eyes shining with a thousand words of joy. His good mood seemed to be contagious, melting Dean’s forced smile into an actual genuine one. Or perhaps this man just radiated good, pure energy. Dean had noticed this before at his initial interview for this teaching position, it was easy to relax around him, to be at ease. He just had a naturally comforting aura.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Dean.” And with a gesture of comfort and openness, he raised his arm to Dean’s shoulder, “Please, call me Chuck.”

Already, Dean could feel himself letting Mr. Novak—Chuck—in, he’s taken such a liking to him. There was no doubt in his mind that the two of them would have no problem getting along. There was something about him, maybe it was his readable, friendly features, or perhaps the feeling of receptiveness that vibrated around him that made him seem just a little more trustworthy than most people to Dean.

The ends of Chuck’s lips quirked up just a little bit, as if he could hear his thoughts. Not sarcastically though, but rather genuinely friendly. Patting Dean on the back, he inclined his head down the hall, beckoning him along. “Do you care to walk with me? There are a few things I’d like to discuss, if that’s all right.” 

There was a part of Chuck that, though very sincere, breathed the air of authority. It wasn’t suffocating, not like some teachers and bosses that Dean had known, but it was there. Albeit suppressed enough that Dean had actually forgotten that the man standing in front of him was his boss.

“Of course, Mr. N- er, Chuck.” Dean flushed but Chuck didn’t say anything, just watched him with a sort of careful eye, a tiny upturn of lips gracing his cheeks as he began to walk down the hall. Dean immediately followed suit, faintly hearing their echoing footsteps in the empty hallway. 

They stayed silent for a long time, or at least what seemed like a long time in Dean’s mind, until Chuck spoke. His voice was level and calm, giving away no extreme emotion or feeling. “I’m terribly glad that you’ve decided to join our staff here at Bradbury High, Dean. The students here are exquisite, all unique in their own special way.” They continued to walk down the hall until they came to a door at the very end, Chuck ushering him in. The silver plaque at the top read _ Mr. Novak  _ in bold letters, unmistakably the principal’s office. “I have no doubt that they will all welcome you here, you’re very special, Dean.” 

Sitting down in a chair, Dean gave a tiny smile. If the students were anything like his boss, he thinks that he’ll really like it here. Gesturing around the room, Chuck continued on. “I’ve been here for quite a long time, you know. Working with so many different personalities, you really learn how to read people, understand their minds, their feelings—and, most importantly, their heart.” The other man looked up at him, then, his eyes so full of emotion that Dean didn’t know which was strongest. His eyes were so expressive that he could hardly focus on anything else, they showed every thought he had ever had, even if his voice didn’t.

“And that is why I hired you, Dean. There’s something about you that’s just… comforting, above all else. From the moment I met you, I knew that I needed you here, or at least that my students did.” For what seemed like the first time, Dean took everything about this man in, from his posture to his hair. Though he appeared to be the perfect image of ease, Dean could see beneath everything that he was tired. Not the need-two-more-hours-of-sleep kind of tired, but the exhausted-with-the-burden-of-living tired. When he really looked, he could see the sections of hair that had started to lose their color, slowly taking the tint of the moon, and swaths of deep color under his expressive eyes. Dean could see now that he had a talent for hiding his problems and demons underneath all of the better, happier emotions for the sake of other people, everyone around him. Dean felt a strong urge to understand this man, to help in any way he could.

“I really do appreciate that, sir. I want to be here to help everyone I can and teach my students everything I know. It’s what I came here to do.” He paused, trying to read the emotions gauged within the lightest of sky blue eyes. He’s yet to see anything negative hidden there, anything less than friendly despite how fragile this man really was inside. The blue remained strong and caring, harboring the strength of a thousand oceans. It gave him the courage to say what he said next. “I’m here for the students, as well as you, sir. I’m sure that you have plenty of people to lean on, but I’ll give you my ears if you need them. I owe you a lot already, this is the least I can do for you.”

The flicker of gratitude was obvious to anyone who could have seen it. “That’s just one of the many reasons I hired you, Dean. There’s a genuine atmosphere surrounding you, and though it helps everyone, myself included, my students always come first. One in particular.” His eyes, the blue that Dean had been intently watching, flickered to a picture frame on his desk, one that Dean couldn’t see. “My wife, she uh…,” he cleared his throat and continued on, eyes glistening. “We lost her almost a year ago now and needless to say it’s been hard, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. It’s been arguably even harder on my children who had their mother ripped away from them.”

Chuck gulped, his throat bobbing, and paused for so long that Dean was trying to think of something to say when he filled the silence once more. “My son, Castiel, has taken it particularly hard and I haven’t been able to get through to him. Grief is still a common friend in our house who has understandably overstayed its welcome. All I ask of you is that you try to talk to him, help him in any way that you can. I worry about him these days. He’s not…” Chuck paused, looking for the right words, any words. “He’s not who he used to be anymore.” 

Dean felt many things surfacing inside him at that moment. Mostly hurt and a dull ache, the memories of his own mother’s casket forced into his mind. His skin tingled with the feeling of flames licking at his skin, flickering fire obscuring his whole mind’s eye. All of the things he still had nightmares about. 

But he was also confused. Had Chuck only hired him to be a therapist for his son, not because he was simply good at his job? That stung a bit—a lot, actually. He loved teaching, he loved his students and he loved that he was actually good at something, he  _ knew _ he was good at this. He thought he was hired as an English teacher, not a guidance counselor. Chuck seemed to sense his distress because he quickly continued, saying, “I understand if you can’t do this, that’s not your job here. Your job is to teach and from what I’ve heard, you’re quite good at what you do. But Castiel refuses to talk to anyone else, he hardly talks to me, let alone his sister, but I just have a feeling it’s because our town is so small and everyone knows who he is, knows that we lost...  _ her…  _ that he doesn’t want to open up to anyone. My hopes were that since you’re not from here, maybe he would take a liking to you, talk to you. You’re quite young, I was hopeful that he would be able to relate to you in ways that he can’t relate to me.”

Chuck had no idea just  _ how  _ much he’d be able to relate to Dean, he couldn’t have known that. It went deeper than being young, male, and an outsider—he’s been dealing with a mother-shaped hole in his heart for as long as he could remember. He’s all too aware of how much it fucking hurts, how nothing seems right or just after something like that, how alone he felt. Even though he was only seven when his life was changed forever, even though his situation was surely different than this aching family’s, he wished more than anything that he had had someone to talk to, someone that understood. His brother hadn’t even been three when their mom died and has no memory of her or that cold, damned night. And his father… well, Dean understands not being able to relate to him.

His heart and mind were joined as one and had been made up since Chuck first mentioned Castiel, this poor, aching kid. He vowed, at that moment, to do absolutely anything it took to help him, to understand him, to befriend him. Unconsciously, he knew that this was part of his job now, taken by choice and by an aching wish that his father had given him a chance like this.

“Of course, whatever I can do to help, I’ll do.” Dean nodded, giving his consent and understanding, and Chuck nodded back, his eyes shining with relief and gratitude. Dean could sense a friendship blossoming between the two of them and absently wondered if Chuck could feel it too.

Dean had made up his mind. There was no going back now.

* * *

Dean’s assumptions had been right: he really did like the students here. Chuck’s assumptions had also been right: most of the students had welcomed him with open arms. A few just seemed to be shy, and he understood that he was a big change in a tiny town like Harvelle. He knew though that, with time, he’d be able to gently coax them out of their shells and do what he does best—teach them marvels about the world. 

He kept his eyes open for Castiel all day, which wasn’t particularly hard considering his classes were relatively small and he didn’t have a lot of names to remember. But it wasn’t until his last class of the day, a group of seniors, that he saw the name Castiel Novak listed on his class roster. And right next to it, the name Anna Novak. 

Now that Dean’s thinking about it, Chuck  _ had  _ mentioned his children, as in more than one. Why hadn’t Chuck asked him to help Anna then, too? Maybe he’d talk to her as well, after all, they had both lost their mom and he just wanted to help. 

When the bell rang signaling the beginning of class, he took a look at all of the students seated before him with a cheek-splitting smile. They all peered back at him, trying to get an understanding of their new teacher. Dean has had the feeling of being assessed all day, every move he made was taken note of. He’d go out on a limb and say that the little town of Harvelle didn’t really get a lot of new residents. But they had to get to know him somehow. 

So, taking a seat on the edge of his desk, he looked out among his new students, catching a few eyes and trying his best to seem friendly and relaxed, he began his last class of the day. 

“It’s such a pleasure to meet all of you. In the very improbable event that you haven’t heard the news, I’m Mr. Winchester,” he started with a smile. “I’m aware that some of you may be a bit apprehensive to have a new teacher, especially at the start of your senior year, but I just want all of you to know that I, myself, am incredibly excited to teach what seems to be such a wonderful group of young adults. I realize that none of you know me yet, so let’s end that right now, I’ll tell you all the best parts.” He stands up from his seat on the desk and begins to walk around the room, talking as he goes. 

“I can tell you that I would do just about anything for a good burger,” he starts and gets a ripple of laughter from the class. “I have a brother that I would do anything for. Well, except maybe give him said good burger. Food is a form of pure happiness if you ask me, which  _ definitely  _ wasn’t obvious,” Dean says with a snicker. The class laughs again, clearly relaxing around their new teacher.

“Okay, enough about food. Here’s something actually shocking: I used to absolutely hate school.” The students stopped their laughter, all faces turned towards Dean, eyes wide. “Yes, shocking, I know. But it’s true. I didn’t care about school because I didn’t think I needed it, I wanted to be a mechanic believe it or not. I didn’t see myself flourishing in anything special, I didn’t think that  _ I  _ was special. I saw a classroom as a waste of my time.”

He was about to continue when a gravelly, low voice spoke up from across the room. “What changed your mind, then? What made you care?” Turning, Dean immediately knew who the voice had come from, for everyone was turned in their seats gaping at the secluded boy in the back of the room. And even if they weren’t, even if no one was looking, he knew somehow, someway that he can’t explain, that he would’ve known.

The boy, no, not really a boy, but a young man, was gazing at him with the deepest, darkest blue eyes Dean had ever seen. He could see their dark, distinct color even from where he stood full of curiosity and something else he just couldn’t put his finger on. Desperation, maybe? Bafflement?

None of his other students had asked him this question, none of them had said anything, really. He wasn’t caught off guard, exactly, but a bit surprised to say the least. “One of my teachers, actually. Mr. Singer. He saw how bad I was struggling and how much I wanted to give up, but he also saw something in me that I never had. Potential. He fought for me so hard, he worked with me nonstop until I saw everything in myself that he did, he was practically my mentor. He’s also the reason I became a teacher, you know, not just the reason I finished high school. Bobby Singer is a man that I will never forget and everything I aspire to be.”

He hadn’t meant to go into so much detail or get so personal, but if he wanted his students to be open with him, it had to go both ways. He could feel every pair of eyes on him, but he only saw one: the darkest pair of midnight blue in the whole room. He vaguely wondered how eyes could be so dark and still be a distinct color. He held their gentle gaze until they broke away, fluttering to the floor. 

Dean didn’t even know how to continue after that, but he cleared his throat and moved on anyway, continuing to pace the room. “Teachers really aren’t that different from all of you. I’m twenty-five, and though to some of you that may seem old, it’s not that far off in your future. I’m human, just like all of you. I make mistakes, I used to hate school, as I’m sure some of you do, until someone showed me that it’s not as bad as people make it out to be.” Making his way back to the front of the room, he took a seat on his desk again, the image of ease. 

“I’m telling you all of this because I can’t expect you,  _ any  _ of you, to trust me if I’m not open with you. It goes both ways, and I know that. I want to know each and every one of you, and to do that, you have to know me first. Even if it’s just talking about the best food known to man, it’s a start.” At that, the class seemed to lighten up again, letting out a few chuckles of laughter. Dean felt a smile of his own tugging at his lips.

“So now that you know me, I want to know all of you,” he said, flashing a crooked smile. “Starting with your names.” He read off his class roster, calling names and seeing who answered, trying to put names to faces. He was slowly getting the hang of this, calling a few names including Meg Masters, a pretty petite girl that sat in the front of the class and Arthur Ketch, a seemingly bright young man who had transferred from England before getting to the two students he really wanted to know.

He called Anna Novak first, and immediately saw the perky redhead seated right in front of him give him a wide smile, her brown eyes shining. She seemed to be quite energetic, practically bouncing in her seat, long red curls bouncing with every other part of her. Now that he looked at her closely, he could see hints of Chuck in her—she had his well-shaped nose as well as similar features, but he guessed she looked more like her mother. She seemed to have a lot of her father’s energy, though. Maybe that was why Chuck hadn’t mentioned her specifically, she seemed happy and bubbly from what Dean could tell, not unlike her father.

The next name was the one he had been wondering all day about, questions running wild in his mind. He had an intense desire to meet this Castiel, to help him. And now, he was somewhere in this room, hiding in plain sight.

“Castiel Novak?” he called and immediately heard the resounding, gravelly, “Here, Mr. Winchester.” His head snapped up instantly, coming into direct contact with the epitome of blues. In all honesty, Dean probably stared longer than he should have. No, he  _ definitely  _ stared longer than he should have. But he couldn’t help it, Castiel held his gaze steadily the whole time and Dean couldn’t find it in himself to break away, hypnotized incompetently. 

Dean must have been blind  _ and  _ a fool not to make the connection beforehand. When this young man had asked him how he had changed himself in school, he should have known right away. It was his eyes… they drew Dean in like quicksand from the moment they landed on him. To be such a vibrant color that Dean can see that vivid  _ blue  _ from the other side of the room was striking in a way he had never known before. His eyes shone with thousands of emotions at each and every moment, never quite shining the same way again.

He had such striking, incomparable eyes. Eyes like Chuck’s. 

Though Castiel’s eyes were many shades darker, they were so expressive that Dean thought he could never say a word and be understood by all the creations on earth. 

Besides his eyes, now that Dean had gotten over the initial shock of intensity, Castiel looked strikingly like his father. His hair was dark and unruly, bringing one word to the front of Dean’s mind _ —untamable.  _ They had similar lips as well, both wide and thin, tinged a sweet, soft pink. But there were a few differences he could see—they had different facial structures and his chin was slightly dimpled right in the middle. He suddenly wished he knew what his mother looked like, Dean had no doubt that she was undeniably beautiful.

Castiel obviously differed from his sister in more ways than just looks and hair. Where Anna had taken a seat right in front of Dean, Castiel chose to sit as far away as he could, secluded behind all of his classmates. He seemed to be more reserved as well, quiet and yearning, while Anna exuberated bundles of energy. 

He wondered about who Castiel had been before his mother’s death, what Chuck meant when he said that his son isn’t who he used to be.

He suddenly became very aware that he’d been staring this whole time and forced himself to break away from Casiel’s steady gaze, quickly clearing his throat and carrying on.

Once he finished calling names, he had one more thing planned for their first day back. “Now I know that no one wants to do work,” he started, and almost instantly the whole class groaned in unison.  _ “But  _ I promise that this will be a fun way to start our year together.” Rubbing his hands together with anticipation, he asked his students to take out a blank piece of paper.

“All I ask is one thing. I want all of you to draw your very own character. Your character can be anything you want it to be… under one condition. They must represent everything  _ you  _ believe the world looks like, but in this one figure. It doesn’t have to be a human being, but just think about what this character of yours aspires to be, how their actions can be viewed. It can be anything you could ever imagine, even something as unnatural as a dragon. But tell me why. Why is the world the way it is to you—to this character? Why do we, as humans, behave this way? You tell me.”

By the time the bell rang, all of his students had finished their characters and left them on Dean’s desk, anxiously trying to get out the door. Most of the characters were broad concepts, not really going into much detail. But he’d expected as much, he knew they weren’t going to be perfect right away. 

There were a few creative ones that caught his eye like a child swimming in a lake full of garbage and two-headed fish—innocence’s absence—and a clown putting on its makeup, hiding its true face.

But the one that really interested him was the very last one in the pile. This one was an angel, a very intricately drawn one, with one humongous black wing and one white wing of the same size spanning the length of the paper. The angel’s face had scarcely any details, most of the work was put into the two wings. Atop the darker one, so black that pencil smudges rubbed off on Dean’s fingers, sat a shadowed figure. It had no face, just dark impressions of eyes, and pointy little horns etched atop its head. 

At the bottom of the page were written the words  _ Humanity is of the purest creation, though only before the world is glimpsed  _ in perhaps one of the neatest cursive lettering Dean had ever seen. In the top corner sat one name in the same elegant writing—Castiel Novak. 

Dean ended up staying in the school a lot longer than he had planned to, he got caught up in analyzing Castiel’s paper, studying every detail. It really was an extraordinary drawing for how little time Dean had given the class, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t highly impressed - amazed, even.

Now more than ever, Dean had an overwhelming, inexplicable desire to actually  _ know  _ Castiel. He was intrigued by this young man, he would be even if he hadn’t been asked to take an interest in him from the beginning. He found himself wanting to know all the thoughts behind his deep navy eyes and understand each and every one of them. He really couldn’t wait to get to know him—he hasn’t wanted something so much in a very long time.

That evening, Dean Winchester went home with an itch of wonder and a smile of genuinity.

* * *

Dean’s smile was wiped from his lips as soon as he stepped inside his house. It was close to six o’clock by the time he got home and he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, so to say he was hungry was an understatement. 

The first thing he saw was… nothing. He realized belatedly that he had been inadvertently looking for Lisa and had come up blank. The second thing he saw was the dirty dishes lining the sink and kitchen counters, surely evidence of his wife’s dinner. It wasn’t the end of the world, but Dean couldn't help but feel a little irritated. She couldn’t have even waited for him? Or maybe make a bit extra for his own dinner? Obviously she hadn’t given him a second thought. 

But what bothered Dean even more was that she had left him her mess to clean up after a long day at work when that was all he’d been doing since the day they moved here. He felt like she didn’t even notice that he cleaned up after her, did all the chores in his spare time. He felt like a goddamn housewife and he got absolutely no thanks for it, no ‘I love you’s,’ no promises to help out. He felt like he was the only one putting in any effort around here.

This was not at all what Dean had expected to come home to and it really soiled the good mood his first day at his job had put him in. He needed to talk to his wife about this, maybe there was a reasonable explanation, he thought. So, he marched up the stairs to Lisa’s office—he’d be willing to bet any amount of money that that was where she was. 

He should really do that next time, he’d be rich in no time. Because as he creaks open the door to Lisa’s office, he spots her at her desk, papers spread out around her that were undoubtedly case files from the law firm. Clearing his throat, she glances up at him through a lock of dark hair. “You are  _ never  _ going to believe what happened to me today, Dean. It was the most amazing thing ever. I think Ruby saw how hard I’ve been working and offered me a place on  _ her _ case. Isn’t that crazy?! I’ll be working with Ruby herself, probably even nights with how high-profile this case is-”

“Wait, you’re going to be working nights too?” Dean cut in. He didn’t mean to interrupt her, but his anger spiked red hot at that moment. “Lis, you’re hardly home as it is, don’t you think that some time just you and I would do us some good?”

“Dean, you know how hard I’ve worked for this. I can’t just turn down this opportunity, if I can show Ruby exactly what I can do then I just can’t afford to stay home as much as I have been.” Dean’s eyes widened involuntarily, he could hardly believe his ears.

“Do you actually think that you’ve been  _ home  _ a lot? _ I’m _ the one that does everything around the house because you’re hardly ever here to do it.” Rationally, Dean knew that yelling wasn’t going to get him anywhere but his mind was working strictly with emotions now, not logic. “The house was spotless when I left this morning and now I’m expected to clean up the mess that you can’t be bothered to tend to.”

Lisa wasn’t looking at her papers anymore, rather at Dean who now had her full attention. “I have a lot of work to do, you should know that.”

“Oh I know, Lisa, that’s all I ever hear about. Speaking of work, do you even care how my first day went? Because you haven’t even asked.” Lisa opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then closed it, her eyes flickering back to her papers like she was scared that looking away for more than a moment would cause them to disappear. What a surprise. “Whatever Lisa, you should get back to work. Can’t have  _ Ruby  _ upset with you, now can we.” The door slammed behind Dean as he made his way downstairs to make his own damn dinner by himself.

While he ate, he couldn’t help but notice that the jelly in his PB & J tasted more sullen and tangy than he remembered and threw it away, only half eaten. He spent the rest of the night specifically not thinking about Lisa—instead, he thought about his day. Overall, it hadn’t been the worst, he supposed. He had a lot ahead of him, he knew—most of which excited him, made him hopeful. He had a duty to Castiel and even more of a craving to know him, and he had a wonderful job with an even more wonderful boss. Even the rain had seemed to contain promise, expectation.

Though Dean didn’t know it, the rain that fell that morning was more than just water, more than just a passing shower. It had cleansed him more than he could ever even know. It had awoken the storm inside him, and it raged on.

This was his new beginning.


	2. Metanoia: The journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, quite determined to finally talk to Castiel, finally approaches him after class. Castiel, as shy and reserved as ever, writes his teacher a letter of his feelings rather than saying them aloud. He finds himself thinking about Mr. Winchester, though a problem stands in his way. Anna has made it her mission to have him and Castiel won't get in her way. At the same time, Dean is as intrigued by Castiel as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long to update, but I promise I'm not going anywhere anytime soon! I hope you all enjoy reading!

Dean would say without a doubt that his classes the next few days went just as well as the first. A surprising number of students were interacting with him, contributing information to class discussions. He was beginning to know his students’ names without having to look at the class roster, and best of all—he was connecting with a majority of them, getting them to open up. He’d always like to think that he was thought of as more than just an average teacher to his students, over his years teaching he’s had close relationships with a few students on multiple occasions. He wanted his students to think of him as a safe place, someone they could talk to whenever they needed. 

Although the one person Dean wanted to open up, wanted to know as more than just a face and a name, was as closed off and guarded as could be. Castiel sat secluded in the back of the class day after day, intently watching Dean as he taught. He felt the most vivid midnight blue eyes on him as he walked, as he spoke, always watchful.

That’s the most that Dean has gotten out of him since the first day as he hasn’t spoken up during class since. Every day Dean intends to talk to him after class and yet every day he seems to disappear from sight right as the bell rings, entangling himself in the crowd of anxious students until Dean can’t see that wild dark head of hair anymore. 

He wouldn’t go another day feeling the weight of his eyes and not know all the stories held behind them. So when the bell rang today, Dean strode over to Castiel’s desk like a man on a mission before he had a chance to make a getaway again.

As Dean reached him where he had been gathering his books, Castiel looked up to face him, his eyes widening in almost a look of panic. Dean had had a feeling he’d be easily skittish and he had no intention of scaring the young man, that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do. So he put on the most gentle, friendly face he could muster and bent down as to be eye level with Castiel.

Here he was, face to face with the man he’d spent all day wondering how to approach, and suddenly all he could think about was how from this close, he could see that his deep, dark blue eyes resembled sapphires in a way nothing else ever could. His eyes were pure jewels, undoubtedly the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on. The intricate blues blended and danced together marvelously to make the most mesmerising, alluring eyes in existence; Dean knew without a doubt that these were the most exquisite gems on this Earth.

As he watched, he could see Castiel trying to put a guard up to assess the situation. But, like his father, his eyes were so very expressive that he couldn’t hide much of anything from Dean’s searching gaze. In awe, Dean saw as the blues melted the protective walls to show him hints of curiosity and uncertainty. 

Trying to reassure Castiel in any way he could, Dean gave him a slight smile, just an upturn of lips. Though it wasn’t much, his eyes said a thousand words more, he knew. They were warm as he watched Castiel, soft and gentle and completely alight with pure kindness, all and only for the young man sitting right in front of him.

Castiel seemed to relax a bit, slowly peeking at Dean through hooded lashes. It was a start and he knew he’d be damned if he didn’t run with it. So catching Castiel’s eyes, he spoke—just a deep, breathy sound so as not to be overheard by exiting students. “Would it be okay if we had a talk?”

Immediately Dean regretted his poor choice of words. Almost instantly the boy’s cheeks flushed a deep enough pink as to remind Dean of cherry blossoms in full bloom, the springtime air nurturing the color’s vibrant pigment. Soon after he lost the eye contact they had shared - brief, but worth more than one could imagine—and the bright sapphires averted away almost instinctively. Or was it protectively? Dean couldn’t be sure, he didn’t know his student well enough yet to even take a guess. 

But the thing was, he wanted to more than anything. 

“No, no, Castiel you’re not in trouble, nothing like that.” At this, he’s met yet again with guarded eyes as deep as all the oceans and yet also a wall that stopped the intense, rolling waves from reaching Dean.

“I’m...not…?” Dean was utterly shocked to hear the doubt colored like honey in his voice. Was Castiel really so damaged that he thought he was in trouble just for being in this class? Dean’s heart shattered into fragments in his chest, each piece throbbing with an ache of desperation.

“No, of course you’re not.” Dean gently began to reach his hand out to this boy but immediately thought better of it, he didn’t want to overwhelm Castiel. Instead when he looked back up, he saw the deep blue watching  _ him _ this time, curiosity emanating from his figure in the tilt of his head and the squint of his eyes. “I just want to know you a bit more.”

“You want to know  _ me?”  _ Though he didn’t say it, Dean could hear the added  _ ‘Why me?’  _ at the end of his question. He sounded so utterly disbelieving that Dean vaguely wondered exactly how many walls Castiel had put up against the outside world, against people. Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt his heart.

“Would it be okay if I sat here with you?” Dean asked. After a quick glance around the now empty room, Castiel’s eyes flickered and held Dean’s gaze. It felt almost as if he was being studied, he could see the gears turning in his head, deeming if he was trustworthy or not. When Castiel nodded his head, just a small, slight movement, Dean assumed that he had passed his test. 

Pulling up a desk and chair, Dean sat to face Castiel. It was easier this way, he thought. It would be more intimidating to Castiel if Dean called him up to his desk, it would feel more like a confrontation. Really, Dean just wants to talk. Wants to help. And he knows that he would never be able to get Castiel to open up if this felt like a formal teacher-student meeting. 

Each time Castiel spoke, the deep, gruff voice shocked Dean, it just didn’t seem to fit someone so reserved and quiet. This time was no different. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Winchester, what did you want to know?” He spoke quietly, almost afraid of being overheard, though there was no one around to hear. It was just another wall put up to keep people out, Dean supposed. 

“I thought we could start with the character I asked you to draw a few days ago.” Castiel’s eyes fell for just a moment before meeting Dean’s once again.

“You thought it was bad, didn’t you.” The midnight blue seemed somehow even darker now, flickering blankly. Dean could see the hurt oozing through the walls, no matter how hard Castiel tried to keep it hidden. 

“No, Castiel, no, of course not. Actually, I think you are  _ extremely  _ talented, to say the least. I was just wondering if you could tell me more about it.”

Dean had the pleasure of seeing a small smile grace the lips of the man in front of him, something he had yet to see. All he knew was that he wanted to see it again. Call him greedy, but he just knew he would never get tired of seeing the way it made his blue orbs shine in a way nothing else has. For just a moment, they seemed almost lighter—like a weight had been lifted. 

But then, as soon as the smile had come, it vanished again, the weight in his eyes covering any brightness he had seen. “Why do you want to know?” he asked carefully, a tightness guarding his words. 

“You intrigue me, I’ll admit. I’ve found myself wanting to know more about you.” Which was not a lie in the slightest, Dean  _ does  _ want to more about Castiel. He wants to know the thoughts behind the deep blue eyes, the feelings he hides. But so does his father, and that’s the main reason he’s here.

Though Castiel can never know that.

He looked up at Dean then, and Dean looked back. For a moment, all he could see was his electric gaze, anything else in the room faded to black. The passing noises of any students wandering out of the building disappeared, the birds chirping outside his classroom window couldn’t be heard. It was just the two of them in the whole entire world.

But then Castiel spoke again, and the rest of the world came crashing back into existence. “You told us to draw what we thought the world looks like, so I did.”

Dean nodded. He hadn’t thought this would be easy. “Could you tell me anything else about it, do you think?”

The boy looked away then, down at his hands that fiddled on the desk. He breathed deeply, in and then out, over and over again. Just breathing, eyes flickering. In and out, in and out. Blink—once, twice. In and out.

The seconds ticked by, seeming to leave Dean behind, just a beat slower than everything else. After a minute, Dean spoke. “If you can’t speak your mind aloud, you could put it on paper, if that’s easier. I don’t want to push you.” Too hard. He didn’t want to push him too hard. But if he didn’t push him at all, he knew deep within his heart that he wouldn’t be able to help.

Castiel nodded, eyes meeting Dean’s at last. They seemed lighter again, like the weight had been lifted for Dean to get one last peek. All too soon they flickered away from Dean as he stood up, leaving Dean feeling left behind once again. 

He heard his student packing up his books and things and then the squeak of the chair being pushed in, followed by footsteps. He didn’t look up until he heard that deep voice again, surprising him just like every other time. Castiel stood in the doorway looking back at him, eyes somehow softer, glistening. “You intrigue me too, Mr. Winchester.” Dean’s eyes widened when he saw that hint of a smile before it slipped away once more. 

It wasn’t until Dean couldn’t hear Castiel’s footsteps receding down the hall anymore that he remembered to smile back.

* * *

Stepping inside the front door of his house, Castiel finally let himself catch his breath. He had so many thoughts whirling inside his mess of a head and he didn’t know which one to start with. Though the walk home had certainly helped, he hadn’t really appreciated it. He didn’t  _ want  _ to think.

“Took you long enough.” Looking up, Castiel was startled to see the bundle of red curls that was his sister. There she was, leaning up against the wall shaking her head like  _ he  _ had done something wrong. “I wondered when you’d finally be home.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t left  _ without me,  _ I’d have been back sooner.” Their family only had two cars and since Anna refused to ride with their father to school—God forbid they’d actually be seen with family—Castiel was stuck riding with either Anna or his dad. He usually rode home with his sister as Chuck often times had to stay longer after school, being the principal and all. Today, though, had not been the case.

“Maybe if you hadn’t taken so long I wouldn’t have left without you. Do you not even consider my feelings, Castiel?” Anna crossed her arms then, and for just a moment he felt like a child being scolded by his mother. “I couldn’t wait forever, Ruby’s coming over tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I got held up with Mr. Winchester.” Which was true, he did. And it really hadn’t taken that long, ten minutes maybe. And he definitely could have used a ride home after their encounter.

“With… Mr. Winchester?” she asked. “You talked to him?” Her eyes widened then, though not in surprise. Mischievously would be the word Castiel would have used. 

“...Yeah? I guess we did. Is that a problem?” Castiel was becoming suspicious now, Anna had the sparking glint in her eyes that he knew all too well.

She was planning something.

“No, no you just gave me the most wonderful idea.” A smile split across her face then, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.  _ “I’ll  _ be the one to talk to Mr. Winchester tomorrow, right after class. I don’t think he’d be able to resist me, do you think? I mean, look at me.”

Anna wasn’t making any sense, at least not to Castiel. “You want to…  _ seduce  _ our teacher? Anna, what-”

“God, Castiel, haven’t you seen him? He’s absolutely gorgeous, how could I  _ not?  _ I’ll be next in line to get ‘held up’ with him, if you know what I mean.” She was pacing now, as if Castiel wasn’t even there, eyebrows creased in thought, an ever-present smirk glued to her lips.

“Anna, this is such a bad idea. He’s our  _ teacher,  _ that’s illegal! Do you not hear yourself?”

She stopped moving then, just for a moment, to look at her brother. Really look at him. “It’s not illegal if nobody knows,” she said, a naughty grin melting her features. “Besides, we’re eighteen. I’m an adult, I speak for myself.”

“But-” Suddenly, her grin disappeared as quickly as if it had never been there in the first place. She moved towards Castiel, flaming red curls bouncing with each step. “If you tell anyone, and I mean  _ anyone…  _ I will  _ end  _ you.” Her brown eyes danced like flames, burning with the color of her hair, and Castiel would be lying if he said he didn’t believe her. 

And just like that she was gone, leaving her brother behind in an instant as she bounded up the stairs to her room, no doubt scheming with every step.

* * *

The rest of the night passed quickly, Castiel hardly even noticing time ticking away without him. Time did not care that Castiel wasn’t there, time had no feelings. Time felt nothing. 

Castiel envied that with all of his soul. He’d rather feel nothing than feel everything, feel the striking pain every single day, every time he breathed, every time he moved.

Time went quicker than normal that night. 

Over dinner his father had asked him how school was going. “Are there any teachers you like, Castiel?”

It had been an innocent enough question to which Castiel had answered after a bite of chicken noodle soup, “Yeah, a few. It’s not so bad.”

Chuck had mumbled in agreement, continuing their conversation. “What about Mr. Winchester? Do you like him?” At that, a noodle had almost shot out his nose in between strangled choking coughs. His father was definitely asking the wrong child that right now, though he didn’t seem to have a clue.

At Anna’s razor-sharp glare—if looks could kill he wasn’t surviving this one—he quickly muttered, “Yeah, um, he’s a good teacher,” and busied himself with cleaning up the soup he had spilt.

Breathing a sigh of relief once he felt his sister’s gaze lifted, he decided it was best for his health if he got out of there, and quick. “I think I’m going to go upstairs now—you know, homework.”

But before he could escape, it seemed his father had a few more questions, his blue eyes, so much like Castiel’s own, imploring. “Why don’t you tell me some more about him, Castiel. I’d love to hear your thoughts.” 

His mind racing for an excuse under the watchful gaze of his sister, he said the first thing that came to his head. “He intrigues me.”

When Chuck’s head tilted in confusion, his mouth opening no doubt to ask what he meant by that, he knew that was  _ not  _ the right thing to say. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks immediately and turned his head as if to hide it. Like he was actually good at hiding anything. “I, uh, don’t feel well. I’m gonna go lie down now.”

Turning around and trying his hardest not to run away as fast as he could, he headed up the stairs to his room, soup completely forgotten along with, apparently, his common sense. 

* * *

All night Castiel tossed and turned in his bed, his mind refusing to shut off. Thoughts circled around, some louder than others. 

_ Actually, I think you are  _ extremely  _ talented, to say the least. _

_ You intrigue me, I’ll admit. I’ve found myself wanting to know more about you. _

_ _ Castiel had never intrigued anyone before. What was so special about him? But above all else, what was so special about his teacher that intrigued  _ him?  _ He hadn’t been lying to his father, Mr. Winchester really was a good teacher. Extraordinary, actually. His was the only class he ever looked forward to.

But what he  _ hadn’t  _ told his father was how much he actually did like him. He was funny, of course, he’d even gotten Castiel to smile more than once over the past few days. And anyone could tell that he genuinely cared about his students, that much was obvious. 

Not to mention just how right Anna had been when she said he was gorgeous, anyone to deny that  _ must  _ be blind. He hadn’t even realized how stunningly green his eyes were until today, when he was so, so close that Castiel could actually smell his shampoo. He hadn’t been able to smell anything other than juicy citrus clouding his nostrils ever since. 

Funny, caring, handsome, what else was missing? Oh yeah— _ teacher, married. _ He hasn’t forgotten the feeling of his heart plummeting when he got the first good glimpse of the wedding ring on his finger. Which was absolutely absurd because he sure hasn’t forgotten about the  _ teacher  _ and  _ illegal  _ part of this. 

So why did he still see green eyes, greener than the forest blooming in spring, every time he closed his own. Or smell the citrus of his shampoo as if he was still near, feel his heart beat faster in his chest every time he heard his bubbling laugh, clear as bells in his memory.

Castiel had so many thoughts that he just didn’t know what to do with.

_ If you can’t speak your mind aloud, you could put it on paper, if that’s easier. _

It was easier.

The alarm clock next to his bed read  _ 2:16 a.m.  _ but it’s not like he was getting any sleep anyway. Sitting up in bed, he reached for a pen.

* * *

To say that Dean was having a bad morning would be the understatement of the year. It should have been spectacular, it was Friday after all, and Fridays are always spectacular. This one, however, was not.

First, he hadn’t been able to sleep all night because once again, Lisa was staying late at work and sue him, he has a hard time sleeping when she’s not in bed next to him. Then, by the time he actually drifted off—which was 3:30 in the goddamn morning, thank you very much—he had forgotten to set his alarm for the morning and therefore woke up fifteen minutes before he had to leave. 

After taking the quickest shower of his life, in fact he’s ninety-nine percent sure he left some shampoo in his hair by accident, he grumpily discovered that there had been no coffee left for him. So seeing as he had no time to make a new cup, he’d either have to suffer through the school’s shitty coffee or deal with a caffeine withdrawal headache all day.

On top of all that, he stepped in the world’s biggest puddle on the way to his car in his brand new shoes. (Someone remind him why they moved to Pennsylvania in the first place, he’s seen more rain in just the past few months than he ever did in Kansas).

So yeah, needless to say, Dean was having a shitty morning.

That was until he walked into his classroom, cup of coffee in hand, to see a paper sitting on his desk, neatly folded. Curious, he opened it up to neat, elegant writing, written in blue ink. Right away, he knew who it was from without even having to look at the name, Castiel’s script was just that unique.

Setting down his coffee, papers, bag, jacket—everything—he sat down to read, the paper held deftly between his fingers.

_ Between you & I, _

_ _ _ You told me that if I couldn’t say any of this out loud, I could write it down. To be honest, I don’t even know if I’ll give this to you. There’s a lot of baggage here that I’m sure you don’t need and I can’t put that on you. _

_ _ _ But then again, these are just words on a piece of paper. They don’t mean anything, essentially. Not really. People say things all the time that don’t mean anything or that  _ they _ don’t mean. But then again, I told you that you intrigued me. And I meant that.  _

_ _ _ So here I am, writing this. You asked about the character I drew, the one about the world—what it is, what it means. Frankly, I don’t think I know enough about anything to be the one to tell you that. But does anyone? _

_ _ _ So if you want to know my opinion, here it is. From what I’ve seen, the world sucks. It takes away your innocence, your humanity. It does things to people, things I wish I never would have seen. That’s what the picture is, I think. Someone, anyone, maybe everyone, fighting against the darkness in the world.  _

_ _ _ I don’t think anyone is born evil, or corrupt, or even broken. I think we’re raised that way. Maybe by our parents, maybe from what we’ve been through or from what we see going on all around us. Experiences shape us. _

_ _ _ It’s not easy, you know. Living. I think that everyone, at least at one point, has thought about giving up. And believe me, Mr. Winchester, that’s not what I’m writing to you about. This isn’t about death, or suicide, or something you have to report to my father. Simply because that  _ is  _ what the world is. We’re born, we grow old, and we die.  _

_ _ _ Some of us aren’t lucky enough to pluck gray hairs or complain about laughter lines. But those that are act like it’s the end of the world, when really, there is no end. We don’t stop dying, no one lives forever. No matter how much one might wish so. _

_ _ _ In the picture, there’s an angel. This angel has one white wing and one black wing. As I’m sure you could have guessed, the black in all its pitch represents darkness, death. Pain. _

_ _ _ But the white one, well that one’s light. Happiness, love. Everyone’s light is different and I’m not in a position to tell you, or anyone for that matter, what  _ their  _ happiness is. But I can tell you that yesterday, you were mine. You were a light in the darkness that for just a little while, even just a moment, made everything seem like it would be okay. And that’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. _

_ _ _ I just thought you should know. You deserve that, if anything.  _

_ _ _ Thank you for talking to me, you never know what can make a difference. It’s quite intriguing, isn’t it? _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ -C.N. _

Dean must have read those words at least four times. He lost track of time completely, caught off guard once the first bell rang. But honestly, he didn’t really care. This deserved his time, deserved to be read. 

Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more awed by this one soul, Castiel proved him wrong. Dean knew right then and there that he would know anything and everything about Castiel Novak that there was to know.

But above all else, he would help him. Castiel said himself that  _ Dean  _ had been his light. Even if it had been just for a few minutes, it was something. Because everything about these words screamed  _ hurt  _ and  _ pain  _ and  _ sad.  _ For some reason that Dean couldn’t explain, it hurt him to know that Castiel was hurting. There was an ache in his chest that he knew wouldn’t be fixed until he saw those deep blue eyes and knew for himself that Castiel was okay. 

At that moment, Dean made himself a promise. Castiel Novak would not suffer alone, not anymore. Dean would be here, he would make sure of that. 

The bell rang once more signalling the beginning of class, and as the last few students straggled in, Dean found himself wishing that Castiel was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback you guys could give is so greatly appreciated, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, there's a lot more to come! Any feedback or kudos would be very appreciated, I'd love to hear all of your thoughts so far. Make sure to check for updates, I'll try to make a regular updating schedule for you all soon. :)


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